


Event Horizon

by sazann



Category: Trials and Trebuchets (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Lovers To Enemies, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sazann/pseuds/sazann
Summary: Something is wrong with Sheora. The lush tangle of jungle and magic is beginning to crumble, and the goddess Meaphidae is nowhere to be found. The empress and the high priestess are in love.One of these facts will tear the empire apart.
Relationships: Empress Terassis/Neska
Comments: 19
Kudos: 14





	1. We Wake in the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a work in progress, so please be patient with it. 
> 
> You may notice Neska has a different name- given the snake anagram, I figure that's a name she adopted either right before or right after ascending; I chose another name for her for a variety of reasons, but rest assured this is still Neska we're talking about. I also took a lot of liberties with Sheora's culture and history, and I fully expect most of these to be disproven by canon in time.
> 
> Until then, please enjoy.

It’s attempt number four, and Terassis is displeased. 

She stands in the palace corridor, her arms outstretched on either side as her stare locks on the door opposite her. The hallway is vast and full of light, the scent of orchids wafting through the wide-open windows to her east **.** The tip of Terrassis’ tongue sticks ever-so-slightly out of her mouth as she studies her surroundings. The door to the reception room is exactly fifteen paces away. She can do this. 

Terassis takes a slow, deliberate step, her arms keeping her in balance even as the cumbersome sleeves of her thick ceremonial gown weigh her down. Its train is detachable, but today she is dressed in full regalia, layers of sky blue canvas surrounding her in all directions. She nearly slips on some excess fabric, her breath hitching as she corrects her course last minute. Every step is carefully calculated, right foot over left foot over right as she makes her way across the hallway.

Terassis is eleven paces to the door when she hears a loud slam behind her. 

“There you are! I was looking for you!” 

The encyclopedia falls from Terassis’ head, slamming to the ground as she spins to face her best friend. 

“Oh, come on,” Terassis whines, leaning down to scoop up the tome. “I was _so close_!”

Aster snorts and bolts up to the princess, “You’re still practicing? It’s tomorrow.”

“I’m not going to _not_ practice.” Terassis protests, “What if I was carrying the jades and I was just about to give them to Mother and-”

“-you slipped on your own dress and fell in front of everyone and the entire empire laughed at you. You’re not gonna trip, and if you did, they’d be too scared you’d cut their head off someday or whatever to laugh.” Aster recites the line and places an arm around her friend’s shoulder. “Are they gonna make you do the ceremony with a book on your head?”

Terassis smiles reluctantly at Aster, “I guess not.” 

“Exactly,” Aster beams, using her arm to guide Terassis back out the main doors and through the palace’s winding hallways. The pair descends the foyer steps together, “so you’re going to take a break and come hang out with me. Besides, think about all the cakes we’ll get to eat after the speeches are over!” 

“ _You’re right_ ,” Terassis gasps, a far wider grin creeping onto her face. “Okay, okay. Are we going where I think we’re going?”

“Oh, you _know_ we are.” Aster shifts positions to grab her friend by the hand, pulling her out the open double doors and onto the palace lawn.

Sheora’s imperial palace sits inside an overgrown citadel, a small core composed of servants and various members of the nobility. The marble walkway extending to the citadel walls almost always bustles with lively chatter, be it from ladies-in-waiting sharing gossip on their way out of town or peasants wielding cartoonishly large wagons to transport the week’s produce. It is rarely dense, but never dull.

If the palace exterior is bustling on a normal day, today it is _swarming._ The twenty-fifth anniversary of Empress Ariadne’s coronation is no small matter, and the palace doors are positively surrounded, barons and bakers alike scrambling to ensure everything is in place for a perfect ceremony tomorrow. Dozens of palace-goers swerve out of one another’s way to avoid an unfortunate accident, and the twin fountains flanking the walkway have already become a graveyard for objects fallen off carts and trays in the chaos. In other words, it’s a suboptimal time to sneak out of the palace walls, especially with a tiny future empress in full ceremonial wear in tow.

Aster is going to have to be careful.

The instant the children step into the mob, Aster drops to a crouch, pulling Terassis down with her. A noblewoman sporting a ridiculous wig and a massive hoop skirt prances in their direction toward the fountains; sensing a split-second opportunity, Aster dives under the woman’s hoop skirt with Terassis in tow, the pair sprinting out the other side in record time.

The friends bolt around the fountains and duck behind an imposing marble pillar, interwoven with thick vines that climb up its full height. Terassis peeks at the crowd a good ten meters away, her pulse still racing. The princess stares down at Aster, and for half a second her eyes are filled with worry before she bursts out laughing. 

“That was amazing! I didn’t think we could do it with this many people around!”

Terassis’ joy cracks up Aster as well, “Are you kidding? No one even batted an eye at us. We could pull this off in the middle of your _own coronation_ one day and get away with it.”

“Oh my gosh, and if we didn’t, the guards would have to let us go anyway because I’d tell them to!” 

“Ha! They’d be so mad!” 

“Oh, they’d probably try to cancel the coronation.” Terassis suddenly freezes. “... uh oh. Speaking of coronation, I probably shouldn’t wear coronation robes to the jungle.”

“... oh, yeah. Hmmm.” Aster chews on her lower lip. “You could always leave them back here and come back for them after? No one’s looking.”

Terassis pauses for a moment, her face scrunched up in thought. After a few seconds, she sneaks a final glance at the crowd and nods. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Sneaking through the tiny hole in the citadel walls has become so routine that it barely registers as a challenge. Even as the girls have grown bigger and the gap has gotten tighter to squeeze through, they’ve only refined their ability to sidle in undetected. Before long, they’ve taken the usual route past the southernmost temple and toward the thick tangle of vegetation that comprises the Sheoran jungle.

The jungle isn’t like the palace garden, organized and precise and always the same. The jungle is _alive;_ constantly shifting and changing as though it knows better than to be predicted. You could venture into the same chunk of forest two days in a row and barely recognize it the second time around, familiar spaces becoming overgrown or completely restructured far, far faster than you’d ever guess by watching the speed at which a garden grows. Only one location always seems to stay the same, and it is Aster and Terassis’ best-kept secret.

The pair shoos away unfamiliar vines and branches as they trek to their hidden spot, Aster shoving them out of her way and Terassis magically repelling them with a wave of her hand. The deeper they venture, the darker the forest grows, colossal trees choking out most of their sunlight. The two remain hand in hand, each keeping the other close. Partway to their destination, Terassis stumbles over a strangler fig, and Aster catches her before she can fall. They continue ahead. Aster rushes forward, too close to a bush of nettle; before Aster can get too close, Terassis grips her friend’s hand tightly to keep her nearby. They chatter and laugh and talk about their families and the coronation and what they prayed for this morning as they step into their clearing. 

Outside sounds of rustling leaves and chattering birds seem to die off the moment anyone steps into the clearing. It feels almost tailor-made for the girls; two smooth stones flank an impeccably clear spring, the rocks the perfect size to sit and share secrets and picnic snacks for hours while avoiding one’s larger duties. A scattering of sweet-smelling flowers surrounds the glade- there’s a just-large enough gap in the trees above the clearing for the sun to shine down on it, the blossoms forming freckles of purple and yellow and blue against the thick grass. The clearing is as alive as the rest of the jungle- but it feels at _rest_ somehow.

“Here we are! Perfect as always.” Aster stretches out her arms, flopping her body overtop her designated sitting stone as though she were reclining on a couch. Making sure not to tear at her underdress, Terassis takes a ginger cross-legged seat. Aster roots through her tiny shoulder bag, pulling out two decadent fish cakes shaped like little tilapia. She tosses one to Terassis, who fumbles with it for a second before catching it in two hands.

“Thanks,” Terassis says, nibbling at the fake-fins-made-of-real-fins. “...Wait, are these from the temple? I thought they only made these on Thursdays.”

Aster grins, “They do. I asked yesterday and Priestess Phaedra said I could take extras home because of Molting Meadow.”

Terassis gasps, “That _worked_?”

“Uh huh. And they all loved it. Phaedra even said Meaphidae would be proud.”

“What? Aster! That’s amazing!” Terassis leans forward, cupping her chin in the heel of her hand. “Are you going to write more?”

“Uh… maybe. I have a couple ideas, but they’d probably want to read it in front of everyone next time, and then it’d _all_ have to be stuff everyone likes. They’d want everything to rhyme and sound pretty or whatever, and I just want to write stuff down and talk about Meaphidae.” Aster bites off the fish cake’s head, her mouth still full as she adds, “Plus if I bring stuff all the time they won’t give me extra snacks for it any more.” 

“I get that. Well, _I’ll_ like them no matter what.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” 

“Oh, it is _now_!” Terassis raises her eyebrows, “I dare you to write a poem I’ll _hate_.”

“Okay, okay. Let me think.” Aster studies her friend for a second, mouthing words under her breath. A few moments pass. Her eyes light up, and she snorts at her own joke before she even begins to say it out loud. “There once was a girl named Terassis, who was always the top of her classes. All the peasants bow down, but when no one’s around, she just trips and then falls on her-”

Before Aster can finish the line, Terassis takes a tackle dive at her friend, knocking them both off the rocks and into the grassy flower patch. The two roll together for a second until they’re lying on their sides, face to face and in fits of laughter.

“No fair! You didn’t let me finish it!” says Aster, mid-giggle.

Terassis sticks out her tongue, “too bad.” 

Aster and Terassis meet each other’s eyes for a moment, sharing a quiet glance before they burst into giggles all over again. Still shaking with chuckles, Aster pushes herself up to a seated position in the grass. She wipes a tear of laughter off of her face with her sleeve, grinning at her friend. “Told you you’d hate it.” 

Terassis sits up, lightly touching Aster’s arm. “I love it.” 

The girls sit together in the grass, just resting and basking in the silence. As Aster’s fingertips brush over the flowers by her feet, she can’t help but think Terassis would look so pretty with a flower in her hair. 

Thumb to index fingertip, Aster gently plucks an orchid from the bed of blossoms, reaching up to brush the dark hair from Terassis’ face. 

Before Aster can reach her friend, bone-dry green dust fills her grip.  
  


Aster recoils, frantically brushing the dust off her hand as it scatters onto the ground. “What the heck?” 

Terassis’ brows knit together. “What just happened?”

“...it crumbled, I think. Like, I touched it, and it just crumbled.” 

“What? That doesn’t make sense.” 

“I know, but look!” 

Terassis frowns, studying the plants at her feet. “Wait a second,” she murmurs. She leans down, her eyes locked on the bromeliad beneath her. Its green leaves are rippled with brown-stained edges, and its crimson flower droops below its usual height. “They’re dying.”

“You’re right. ...But it’s the rainy season! It’s not supposed to! And we’ve been praying and everything!” 

“I don’t get it either. The passion flower is starting to wilt too.”

“...can you fix it?”

“What?”

“With your magic! I don’t know!”

Terassis pauses. “I only know how to push them away. But I can try?”

“It’s the same thing as pushing them away, right? You’re just pushing them… up? So they don’t wilt?” 

“Uh… maybe. Hang on.” 

Terrassis places either hand on the nearest flower, careful not to disturb it lest it turn to dust like the other one. She screws her eyes shut tight, doing her best to focus on the _feeling_ her tutors would always lecture her about noticing. _Everything in Sheora is alive, from the snakes in the grass to each pebble in the springs. Everything in Sheora can be spoken with, given suggestions, if you know how to reach it._ Magic roars up and out of her fingertips, and the lily springs back to life as though remembering what it had once been.

Terassis opens her eyes one at a time, flinching away from the flower until she can confirm the spell worked. Her eyes lock onto Aster’s wide-toothed grin; it tells her all she needs to know before she even glances at the ground. Her friend pushes her into another tackle-hug, exclaiming, “That was so cool! How did you do that?”

“I don’t know! I just sort of did,” she says, a light pink heating up her cheeks.

“Well, it was amazing! Do you think you can do it again? What if you made the flowers really big or something?”

“Maaaybe not. That might just make it die again.”

Aster puffs up her cheeks and lets out a long huff, “That’s fair.” She flops onto her back next to Terassis, staring up at the clouds above them. “...hey.”

“Hm?”

“When you’re the empress and I’m like a poet or a priestess or something, we’re still going to hang out here, right?”

“What? Of course we are. Why are you asking, anyway? That’s like a bajillion years from now.” 

“.... I dunno. I just wanted to make sure.”

Terassis raises her arm up to the sky, sticking straight up. “I, Princess Terassis, of the Empire of Sheora, solemnly swear that no matter what, we’re always going to hang out.” She crosses her hand over her heart and turns her head to face Aster. “Lest we both die _horrible_ deaths and go up in flames forever.”

The friends chuckle for a moment, and settle into a peaceful silence together, relaxing in the sun and one another’s company. 

* * *

When the girls make their way out of the jungle and slip through their secret hole in the wall, they are only partly surprised to discover that Terassis’ ceremonial gown is no longer behind the pillar where they left it. The spot would be expected to get a bit of foot traffic on a regular day, let alone a day when chambermaids and chatelaines alike are rushing around the grounds in last-minute preparation. The two sheepishly return to the palace, where the robes have been carefully returned to their display case in the jewel chamber. That evening, Terassis’ tutor scolds her for her carelessness, ordering her to write an apology letter to her ancestors for disrespecting their history and to turn it in by the next morning.

As Terrassis pores over the letter in her chambers, she hears a heavy knock on her door in a familiar pattern- fast-slow, fast-slow, fast-slow.

Aster slips into her room undetected by palace guards, and with her assistance, they finish the letter in only half the time.


	2. In The Shadow of The Thorn

In Sheora, twenty-nine means bad luck. Expecting parents follow any home remedy they know of to avoid their baby being born on the twenty-ninth day of either season. Market vendors hawking carts of rice cakes dutifully replenish their supplies before the number of goodies on their carts can drop down too low. The street numbers in the city’s outer ring go straight from twenty-eight to thirty. 

It is Ariadne’s twenty-ninth year as empress.

There’s no proof behind the notion, not really, and most Sheorans couldn’t tell you where the idea even originated. It’s not as though everyone runs in fear of the number, either- plenty of skeptics insist it’s merely foolish superstition. Nevertheless, a sense of unease permeates the kingdom as the first few weeks of the year roll in. Legal practitioners have fast-tracked their paperwork to get as many contracts signed as possible before the year’s beginning. Farmers have begun storing their hardier crops in coldboxes, a precaution in case of an unexpected drought. The palace has quietly upped its security protocol for the royal family, the empress and her husband’s guard detail now doubled. 

More importantly for Aster, the council of high priests has placed a temporary moratorium on commencements.

It makes sense, really. Commencement is supposed to be about harmony and growth and exceeding one’s potential, and one can’t very well do that when one’s commencement is forever tied to a date signifying bad luck. Besides, Aster won’t turn sixteen until near the end of the year anyway, so it’s barely like she has to wait much extra time.

But it’s _not fair._ It was _supposed_ to happen this year, she was _supposed_ to be sworn in and taught all the rites and given access to all the records and _finally_ get a drop of magic inside of her, courtesy of Meaphidae herself. The least they could have done was announce it in advance. Eleven weeks might not be much time in the long run, but right now, an extra seventy-seven days feel like torture. 

Aster stares down at the inkblot-stained parchment on the desktop below her, absently chewing on the tip of her fountain pen. The right words seem to dance at the edge of her vision, ready to be picked up and plastered onto the page. Yearning? No, that’s stupid and trite. An itch? That doesn’t fit the meter, and makes it sound like she’s angry with Meaphidae. Cacoethes? No, Aster. What the _fuck_? She crumples the parchment into a tiny ball with one hand before chucking it at the wastepaper basket across from the room. It hits the wall, landing on the floor with an unsatisfying plop. 

Aster leans back in her chair, letting out a defeated sigh as the words escape her grasp. She pushes the potted succulent on her desk out of the way, reaching for another sheet of parchment. She is about to grab another pot of ink when she hears a gentle knock behind her.

The corners of her mouth turn upward as the _fast-slow, fast-slow, fast-slow_ rhythm plays on her door. “Come in,” she says, suddenly rejuvenated. 

Terassis is dressed in her casual wear today, save for the silver diadem worn around her forehead. Three tiny jades circle a delicate spiral pattern; the spiral for the royal family and the jades for good luck. The dark hairs around the circlet are distinctly messy, as though she’d put on the headpiece first thing in the morning and hadn’t brushed her hair since. She’s looked like this every day since the beginning of the year, but as she steps into the dimly lit chamber, Aster still cannot avert her gaze. 

“Hey,” Aster says, swivelling her desk chair around to face the princess. “They’re letting you walk around the castle by yourself? I thought you all got extra guards.” 

“We do.” Terassis closes the door softly behind her and takes a seat on Aster’s bed. She leans her back against the wall, tension visibly leaving her body. “They’re posted outside my chamber right now. In exactly forty-six minutes, they’re going to check on me to make sure I’m alright. And as long as I’m back before then, they shouldn’t know.”

“Wait, hang on.” Aster jumps to her feet and leaps toward the bed. She lands next to her friend, crossing her legs and resting the heels of her hands on her feet. “Okay, two things. One, _how did you get out of your chamber without them noticing_? Tell me everything!” Aster leans forward, counting items on her fingers as she continues, “Two, why is this a secret? _Are we breaking the rules_?” 

“We’re not breaking the rules! Well, besides the sneaking out rule. We are breaking that one,” says Terassis. “I want to go out with you.” 

Aster stiffens. “Go out with me? What do you mean?” 

“Just to the night market. If it’s okay with you. Just for half an hour to eat some snacks and spend time together. I mean… you’ve been and I haven’t, and if I’m right it started fourteen minutes ago. I could borrow some of your clothing if you don’t mind; we’d still look like nobles, but no one would have to know we were us.” 

“...oh.” Aster scratches the back of her neck, her cheeks flushed a light pink. “I mean… yeah. Yes. Of course I wanna go with you, Terassis!” She pauses for a moment. “Is everything okay, though? I don’t think you’ve ever wanted to go before.” 

“Everything’s fine,” she smiles, leaning further back on the bed. She stares up at the ceiling, gently blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “It’s just been a busy day with geography lessons and meetings, and I just… want to go out and be with you.”

Aster grins. “Okay. Okay, I’m up for it. But you still haven’t told me what cool shit you pulled to sneak out of your chambers.” 

“That’s because I’m going to _show_ you. But I can only do it one more time, so I’ll show you at the end of the night, okay?”

Before Terassis can even look to her for a response, Aster is halfway to her wardrobe.

* * *

  
  


It doesn’t take much effort for Aster to disguise her background. The temples outside the citadel walls are far less extravagant than the central one, but there is minimal variance across the board in terms of how wards of the church tend to dress. Though Aster’s tunic is tailored to fit her perfectly, it almost completely resembles standard temple wear, save for the golden floral trim adorning the neckline. It only takes throwing on a light shawl and pulling her hair into a dark bun to disguise its shine for Aster to appear perfectly nondescript. 

Terassis is only somewhat more of a challenge. Most of the kingdom is unfamiliar with what exactly she looks like; her public appearances are far and few outside the bounds of the citadel. The common people would have seen her standing by Empress Ariadne at the coronation, but a blurred memory of how the princess looked four years ago wouldn’t exactly be perfect, and it certainly wouldn’t make any hawker jump to assuming some vaguely similar-looking girl at the market is the future empress in disguise.

After a couple moments of pondering, Aster roots through a laundry pile in the corner of her wardrobe’s floor. She pulls a forest green dress from the bottom of the pile and tosses it to Terassis. A plain wool frock might look particularly well-made, but certainly not regal. Besides, Terassis is six centimetres shorter than Aster, so the somewhat ill-fitting nature of the dress should help quell any suspicions that its wearer is rich. 

More challenging for Aster is her friend’s stubborn insistence upon keeping the diadem around her forehead. As much as she itches to give the princess a protracted explanation of how _yes_ , it’s a symbol of good luck and under normal circumstances it would keep her safe, but outside the palace it’s also a symbol of _possibly getting mugged,_ Terassis’ constant glances at her ticking pocket watch are reason enough for Aster to shrug and simply lob her an old head-scarf to wear overtop of it.

With thirty-nine minutes and twelve seconds left on the clock, the girls are appropriately disguised and on their way to the night market. 

Sneaking out of the palace is practically muscle memory at this point. The vast majority of times the two have slipped away, no one has been the wiser; any instance where either one of them has been spotted only serves to refine their abilities. Terassis had once compiled a multi-page checklist, annotated with various tips the friends had shared to avoid getting caught; the two ceremonially burned the pages after they’d been appropriately committed to memory. 

The hidden tunnel behind the mirror in the third-floor powder room doesn’t hurt, either.

* * *

The first thing Terassis notices as the two approach the night market is the distinct smell of spice in the air. Before the two are close enough to make out the individual qualities of the hundreds of densely-packed velvet tents, the scent of sumac and marjoram and fennel and turmeric and _possibly_ a _hint_ of saffron waft toward them, causing a small rumble in Terassis’ stomach. Loud shouts describing the names and prices of wares pierce the hum of shoppers mingling throughout the market. With saucer-wide eyes, Terassis shoots Aster a grin, pulling her by the wrist as they melt into the thick of the crowd. 

String lights illuminate dozens of rows of colourful tents, each chock-full of various goods being hawked by boisterous merchants. Her hand still firmly on Aster, Terassis pauses to look into every single one for as long as she can before the movement of the crowd pushes them forward. A chubby old woman with white streaks in her hair proudly displays an array of multicoloured paper lanterns, hung from the top of her stall and illuminating the market in shades of red and blue and orange and purple. A bald man with a toothy grin shouts at the girls to try a free sample of a sweet-smelling pastry soaked in date syrup. A young couple attempt to balance a colourful tower of fresh produce, the woman visibly tense as the man takes his hand off the mango centerpiece. 

The princess practically has stars in her eyes as the pair makes their way across the first row of stalls. She slips the hand not holding Aster’s into her dress pocket, breaking into a small smile as her fingers brush over a scattering of gold coins. Terassis’ gaze turns to the tent ahead of her. Draped in multicoloured striped pastel fabric and staffed by a middle-aged merchant with missing teeth, the stall is lined with elaborate pastry displays: tiny red velvet cupcakes, lemon petit fours adorned with raspberry garnishes, and decadent chocolates piped into various animal shapes. 

Terassis’ nails dig into Aster’s hand as her grip tightens. “Oh, we’ve _got_ to get some,” she murmurs under her breath. She pulls her friend along with her as she jogs up to the tent, flashing a bright smile at the merchant. “Excuse me!” she says, raising her voice above the hum of the crowd. “How much are those?” 

The merchant grins, waving their hand around the pastries. “Chocolates are two, cupcakes and minis are four. But we’ve got a special deal going; if you get all three, it’s only ten.” 

“That’s not… um, okay. One moment.” Terassis furrows her brow, taking a step to the side and lowering her voice. “People haggle here, right? You’re not supposed to accept the price you’re given?”

“Right,” Aster nods. “You want me to do it? I bet I can crack them pretty easily.”

Terassis shakes her head, “Thanks,” she says, “but I want to give it a try. I wanna see if negotiation lessons actually work for anything.” 

“You got it,” Aster smiles, placing both hands on her friend’s shoulders and giving Terassis a wink. “Go get ‘em.”

Terassis wanders back toward the pastry stall, twiddling her index fingers together. She sucks in a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. _Keep your core strong, Terassis. Shoulders back, one foot slightly in front of the other, chin up. An empress is expected to appear both proper and not to be trifled with._ “Pardon me,” she says, consciously sliding her right foot a couple of centimetres forward, “but your prices are too high. Could you perhaps charge six coins for the set instead?”

The merchant raises their eyebrows at Terassis, blinking twice in bemusement. “Six coins is a terrible deal. That’s barely more than a single pastry. Nine and that’s final.”

“Oh. Um… no?” Terassis shoots an awkward glance back at Aster, who gives her an enthusiastic thumbs-up. She raises her chin, looking down her nose at the pastry chef. “I hereby request… how about seven?”

“Nine.”

“Eight?”

“Nine.”

“Fine, okay, nine!” Terassis turns her head back to her friend, scrunching her eyes shut and cringing for a second. Aster mouths a silent ‘what?’, to which Terassis gives a helpless shrug. 

Aster whistles under her breath and strides up to the pastry stall. “No. No, we’re not doing nine. It’s too expensive. We can’t afford that. Let’s go, Terassis.”

“Aster, c’mon, I really-”

“Please trust me. Let’s go.”

Aster reaches out her hand for Terassis to take, and the two of them turn to venture farther into the night market. Terassis frowns at Aster, but follows along with her nevertheless. The friends take all of two paces before the merchant calls out, “wait!”

A grin creeps onto Aster’s face, and she turns back around. “Hm?”

The merchant sighs, glancing down at their wares. “...I can do seven?”

“Seven is fantastic,” Aster beams. Terassis lets out a soft giggle and places the coins onto the display table one by one. She reaches for a piece of chocolate piped into the shape of a coiled python, popping it into her mouth with a satisfied smile.

The girls continue into the market, laughing as they nibble on their newly-acquired treats. “Aster, that was amazing! I was like, ‘what is she doing, why do we have to leave’, and then you were just incredible!” 

“Ehh, you pick it up pretty quickly. Plus High Priest Cepheus had us all practice not standing down because-” she makes finger quotes, holding the petit four between her thumb and pinky- “the tree that breaks under Meaphidae’s thunderstorms must give up its life.”

Terassis wrinkles her nose. “What exactly does that mean?”

Aster shoves the cupcake into her mouth, tossing the wrapper into a small disposal bin as the girls turn the corner into the next row of market stalls. “It’s kind of roundabout. Basically, we need to withstand what’s thrown at us in order to be worthy of it. If you’re a tree and you stare down a thunderstorm, you get a whole bunch of rain when it’s all over.”

“And people who don’t are… sacrifices? That’s kind of rude to the sacrifices, isn’t it?”

Aster shrugs, “Well, the trees that fall down feed the rest of the jungle. Things live in them and stuff. They die so everything else can thrive. But I guess sacrifices don’t really have anything to do with being resilient … actually, yeah, it kind of gives off the wrong idea if you think about it that way. I think Cepheus is better at reading old texts than he is at explaining them to us.”

“I bet you could come up with a _way_ better metaphor than that.”

“Ha. One day.” 

The friends glance around at the row of stalls ahead, wandering in time with the rest of the shoppers. As they continue through the market streets, they pass a small stall selling handcrafted hourglasses, each with its own design, sand colour, and time limit. Terassis gasps, turning around on her heels and stopping in front of the tent before the movement of the crowd can push the girls farther up. “Oh, we _have_ to look at each one,” she breathes, crouching down and picking up a golden glass full of green sand between her thumb and index fingertip.

As the minutes pass, the market only grows livelier. The string lights burn hotter and brighter once the last dredges of sun escape the horizon, and the smells of mixed spices and sizzling oil grow stronger. Terassis and Aster giggle and joke and try on silk scarves and leather gloves as they wander through the market. Terassis has just finished gawking at a vibrant array of sunset paintings when Aster pauses.

“Terassis,” Aster murmurs, “How much time do we have left exactly?” 

“Hm?” Terassis reaches for a skewer of candied strawberries, tossing a handful of coins into the merchant’s jar. “I dunno.” She shuffles a few steps away from the crowd, digging out the golden pocket watch. Her eyes widen and she breathes, “shit.”

“Uh oh. How bad is it?”

“We need to go right now immediately.”


	3. No One Will Believe Us

The clock strikes in four minutes, and the girls are exactly seven point six minutes away from Terassis’ chamber. Aster’s hair has come loose from its bun, streaming behind her as she bolts toward the palace. Coins tumble out of Terassis’ pocket and clang against the stone streets in her wake. Almost out of breath but neither one wanting to slow the other down, Terassis and Aster as much as dive through their secret entrance, landing in a heap one on top of the other. Terassis quickly helps her friend to her feet, and the two stumble into a palace corridor with thirty seconds to spare. 

“Dammit. We’re out of time,” says Aster, her hands clenching into fists in frustration. 

Terassis glances over her shoulder, ensuring that no one is nearby to see or hear the girls. “We’re not,” she says. “Remember how I said I’d show you how I got out of my room?” Aster nods, and Terassis wraps her arms around her friend. “Hold on tight, okay?” 

Terassis closes her eyes, focusing on every detail of her chamber. She casts her mind’s eye upon the plush bed with a soft white canopy draped atop it, the pillars supporting her high ceiling with images of serpents and butterflies and winged women carved into their marble surface, the sound of the fireplace crackling, so warm she can almost _feel_ its heat against her skin, and then she opens her eyes and she _can_. The princess stands in the center of her chambers, her arms still tight around Aster. 

Aster takes a step back, her jaw dropping as she realizes what Terassis has just done. “Terassis. You. Just. Teleported. Us. To. Your. Room!” she exclaims, shaking the princess by her shoulders. “Holy _f-_ ”

“One second.” Terassis grins, softly placing a hand on one of Aster’s. “I need you to hide behind the bed for a moment in 3, 2-”

A heavy knock fills the room. As Aster rushes to duck behind the bed, Terassis takes a deep breath, centring her core and raising her chin before sauntering to the heavy wooden door and opening it. She offers a polite smile to the guards standing in front of her. “Good evening.” 

One of the sentries, a tall woman with a pointy chin, gives the princess a curt nod. “Good evening, your Highness.”

Terassis resists the impulse to look behind her and check on Aster; she’s swift and stealthy, and if the guards had noticed her, they would have said something. “Another routine check-in? I’m perfectly safe.”

“Yes, Your Highness. Is… everything all right? We thought we heard you shouting a moment ago.” The guard opens her mouth as though to say something else, but seems to think better of it.

Terassis reaches up to push back a strand of her hair. Her fingers graze her scarf, and the realization dawns on her that she is still wearing her disguise. “Er… yes, thank you very much for asking. I was just… trying on some temple clothes, just to see what they felt like, and thought I looked silly in them. You probably heard me laughing.”

Terassis holds her breath, doing her best to maintain a regal demeanour as the two guards exchange brief eye contact. She’s sure one of them will call her out on the lie, but after a moment’s pause, they both nod. “It’s good to see you safe and well, your Highness,” says the shorter guard. “We’ll see you in an hour for your final check-in.”

Terassis softly closes the door, keeping her ear pressed to the wood for a second to ensure that the guards have stepped a few paces away. She whirls around, holding out two thumbs up. The messy-haired top of Aster’s head peeks out from behind the bed, and she clambers atop it upon seeing the signal. “Coast is clear?” 

“Coast is clear,” Terassis says. 

Aster scooches to the edge of Terassis’ bed, half-shouting. “Then tell me when you learned to _fucking teleport_!” 

Terassis’ cheeks heat up a little, “Okay, okay. I’m not amazing at it yet. I can’t do it from anywhere; that’s why we had to get into the palace first. And I run out of energy pretty quickly. _But-_ ” Terassis joins Aster on her bed, crossing her legs and leaning on a plush satin pillow- “I figured it out when I was learning how to conjure flowers last week. I was practicing on my own and I just thought, ‘what if I brought myself to the flowers instead?’, and then I was thinking about the gardens. And I was picturing how nice the orchids smell and how neatly the hedges are trimmed, and some part of me just knew I could be there, if I wanted. And I listened to it.”

“That’s…. amazing. That’s insane.” Aster lets out a soft chuckle and scratches the back of her neck. “Wait a second. You said before that you could only do this one more time, right?”

Terassis nods, “I’ve been trying to get better at it, but it’s still pretty draining.”

“Right, right.” Aster strokes her chin. “...so how are you going to teleport me out of your room?”

Both of them share a moment of eye contact before erupting into laughter. “Okay. You’ll just have to stay here for tonight, if that’s okay.”

Aster, still grinning, nods. “That’s nice anyway.” She reaches her arms above her head in a quick stretch before pausing, looking down at her friend. “... So do your tutors know? Like, is this a secret?”

“It’s our secret for now,” she nods, gently tapping at her chin with the pads of her fingers. “I mean, if they know I can do it, they might figure out that I’m not in my room when I say I am. And then I’ll have to study it formally and do drills and take tests on it.”

_Their secret._ Aster smiles a little at that. “I get that,” she nods. “With the weekly poetry reading now, sometimes I feel like they’re judging me. Like I have to make it something they’ll like and not just something I want to say. Makes sense that you don’t want people judging your magic. And… it’s nice to just have it be our secret for now.” 

Terassis smiles. “Yeah! Once I figure out how to get us farther than a couple hundred meters, we can go anywhere! And no one will suspect a thing.”

“Where would you wanna go?” Aster asks, leaning forward and squishing her cheek in the heel of her hand. “I’d wanna go to the other side of the continent. See whatever’s there. I mean, it might just be more jungle, but she put this entire continent here full of beautiful stuff for us to live in, and we still don’t even know what’s over there.”

“That’s a good one,” Terassis says. She presses her lips tightly together in thought, letting out a soft hum. “I’d probably go to the white sand beaches. The ones Father took me to for my birthday two years ago. But this time, I’d take you with me and we could build the tallest sand castle in the entire empire! Plus you could visit one of the holy mountains. I know you really wanted to see them.”

“I love that.” Aster says. “Plus maybe if we get a boat, we could get far enough out to see sharks!”

“ _You_ could see sharks. I’m just going to reinforce our sand castle.”

“That’s fair,” Aster chuckles. “Though by the time you get good enough to teleport us anywhere, you’ll probably be strong enough to just fight off any shark that comes near us without lifting a finger.”

Terassis twirls a lock of hair around her finger, “Maybe. I mean, I don’t know how good I am at that kind of stuff.”

Aster rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Terassis. Seriously. Do you have _any_ idea how powerful you are?”

“I mean… I don’t know. I know I’m pretty good at figuring out new spells, but it’s not like I can just do anything I want,” Terassis mumbles, averting her eyes from Aster’s. 

“Are you kidding me?” She lowers her voice, staring directly at her best friend. “You’re insanely powerful and insanely smart. Just, like, the strongest and smartest person I know.” Terassis still doesn’t meet Aster’s gaze; Aster leans forward, placing a hand on the princess’ knee. “Once I’m done commencement, if I ever get _half_ as strong as you are now, I’ll probably rule the entire temple. That’s how good you are at magic. So don’t put yourself down, okay? You’re gonna be an amazing empress, and-”

“My mother is sick.”

Aster blinks twice. “What?”

“My mother,” Terassis speaks softly, her eyes still firmly focused upon the floor. “Something’s wrong with her. I found out this morning.”

Aster furrows her brow. “Terassis, I’m so sorry-”

“She’ll be fine. That’s what they said. They’ve seen it before and she’ll just need a few days’ rest and some special poultice. She’ll be back to her full energy by next week.”

Aster pauses, silently working through the right words to say. ‘I’m sorry’ already failed. ‘That’s good’ isn’t entirely appropriate; the second piece of news may be a relief, but it still seems insensitive to say in the wake of the entire situation. She opens her mouth to offer a few words of empathy, but Terassis continues.

“I know it’s going to happen one day. I’m going to be the empress and this entire kingdom is going to be completely up to me to manage. If people get hurt or die, or there’s not enough rain, or disagreements break out in some faraway city, it’ll all be my fault. And I’m not ready. I mean, I couldn’t even get _one merchant_ to lower their prices by _four coins_. How am I supposed to fix any of Sheora’s problems?” 

Terassis finally raises her eyes back to meet Aster’s, slightly tearful. “It’s not going to happen this week. Or next year, probably, or even the year after that. But Mother being sick and everything being twenty-nine, it just… I know I have to start really thinking about it soon. I tried to not be the princess for one evening, and I loved it, but almost the whole time I was thinking about it. And I don’t… I know you’re excited to go through commencement and get stronger and have all this responsibility, and I know you’re going to be amazing at it, and I get why you want it, but I just… don’t.” Terassis lies back on the bed, hugging her pillow close to her chest. “I just want to be at the beach with you.”

Aster thinks for a second before adjusting her position on the bed. She moves to lie down at Terassis’ side- not quite close enough to touch her, but close enough to keep the princess company. After a couple moments’ silence, Aster sucks in a deep breath. “I get that you’re not ready to be empress yet. It’s a big deal, and it’s scary. But…. right now, you don’t have to be.” She twiddles her thumbs, opening her mouth and closing it again several times before continuing. “When… it does happen, eventually, it’s not gonna be like… you, as you are, right now, having to make all these decisions. You’re gonna be stronger then, and know more stuff, and you’ll be like you now but even more incredible. I know you have to start thinking about it, and one day you’re going to be such a good empress. But right now, let’s just… be us, together.”

  
Terassis rolls over on her side, face to face with Aster. The tip of her nose and apples of her cheeks are dotted with bright red splotches. She meets Aster’s stare with wet eyes, giving her a gentle smile. “... yeah. You’re right,” she says, an awkward crack in her voice. “Can we just lie here for a few minutes? Just be together?”

“Of course.”

Terassis closes her eyes for a moment, still facing Aster. As the night passes, the two friends lie together in comfortable silence. Aster knows every tiny freckle on Terassis’ face and vice versa, but as the princess drifts into a peaceful evening nap, Aster still can’t help but study each one. Terassis will have to wake up soon for her final check-in of the night, but for now, she is resting peacefully, and the small mole above her right eyebrow looks almost like a tiny heart. 

Aster finally finds the missing word for her poem.


	4. Head First

It is day one of the new year, and Aster is about to be the first person in 210 days to undergo commencement. 

She sits on a wooden stool in front of her bathroom sink, letting out occasional hisses as Terassis pulls and twists at strands of her hair, braiding them into elaborate plaits. Terassis is levitating a torn piece of parchment next to the back of Aster’s head; she periodically glances at the comprehensive list of instructions Aster has written up, laying out every step of the styling process. The plaits have to be fishtail style; Terassis has begun with two equally sized sections of hair per braid and has started to weave them together. Only the leftmost and rightmost braids can hang down, sitting behind Aster’s shoulders. Thus far, only the first middle braid, still half-finished, circles Aster’s forehead; when the others are finished, they will be entwined around the nape of her neck.

Terassis bends down, keeping one steadying hand on the in-progress middle braid as she reaches into a pile of discarded ribbons. She plucks a strip of sky blue silk from the crumpled pile and raises an eyebrow. “How many times did you try to get this on your own exactly?” she asks her friend, her fingers working deftly to tie a small bow around the end of Aster’s plait. 

Aster jerks her head in an instinctive attempt to face Terassis; the princess places a gentle but firm hand on the base of Aster’s skull to keep her head in place. “Two. Okay, three.” Aster glances at her reflection, “...okay, way more than three and it got so matted I had to wash it like four times before you showed up.”

Terassis giggles as she continues her work on Aster’s hair. “Don’t worry about it. I have _no_ idea how they expect you all to do this on your own. Especially without magic! You can’t even see the back of your head!”

Aster shrugs, “I mean, most people usually get their parents’ help, but, well… you know. They did offer to send a helper, but I dunno. I’d way rather it just be us before I have to go in there alone.” She holds up a finger, code for Terassis to pause for a moment as she leans forward to grab the cup of fizzy juice on her sink’s countertop. 

Terassis takes a peek at her reflection; the top of the mirror just barely reaches the pointy tip of her chin. Her cheeks may be flushed warm, but her reflection doesn’t betray that fact. “Me too. Besides,” she says, studying her work thus far with a small smile, “there’s no way some random acolyte is going to do this good a job.”

Aster snorts. Juice sprays out of her nose, droplets flying onto the mirror. “Ah, shit,” Aster says under her breath. She raises her index finger in declaration, still laughing as she speaks. “I’m not cleaning that until I can do it with magic.” 

“Hey, only a couple more hours!” Terassis secures another ribbon around Aster’s second middle braid and grabs two more segments of dark hair. “Have they told you what you’re going to be doing yet? Or are they waiting until right before to clue you in?”

“Neither. I’m only supposed to know the hair and clothing rules,” Aster says with a small shrug. Her eyes dart around the room for a moment, and she drops her voice to a whisper. “Personally, my guess is that when commencement happens you get to talk to Meaphidae somehow.” Her voice trembles with excitement as she continues, “I mean, okay. First of all, the magic is _her_ gift, and second of all, it explains why everyone says it’s so intense and why so much stuff is secret. Just think of how special and sacred it would be to have _Meaphidae herself_ be the one who introduces you to everything. Of _course_ it would ruin it to have it come from some random priest. It makes perfect sense.”

Terassis breaks out into a grin, picking up the pace of her braiding as she nods in time with Aster’s words. “Do you really think so? I mean… if that’s true, that’s amazing!” She ties another bow and places both hands onto Aster’s shoulders, giving them a gentle shake. “ _You’re going to maybe meet Meaphidae!_ That’s incredible! Are you- I mean, you’re excited, right?”

“Yes! I am! Of course!” Aster insists. “It’s just… wow. Meaphidae. _Wow_. You know?” Her cheeks puff up, and she lets out a long exhale. “It’s a big deal. I hope I live up.”

“I wish I could do this with you somehow.” Terassis keeps her left hand resting softly on her friend’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “But whatever goes on in there, if it _is_ Meaphidae, she is going to love you. And no matter what, you’re going to get through it, you’re going to impress everyone with how great you are at it, and you’re going to get an _amazing_ gift. I believe in you.”

“Thanks,” Aster says, directing her smile at the mirror for Terassis. She gives the mirror a quick wink, “plus you’re doing great on my hair, so they’ve _gotta_ be impressed.”

“Exactly!” Terassis reaches down for a small bobby pin, securing two of Aster’s braids together. “What are you most excited for? After it’s done?”

Aster bites down on her lower lip as she ponders the question. “The tomes. Or the magic. …. no, the tomes. No, definitely the magic. Yeah. The magic.”

“Not the extra dough balls after service?”

“Wait, yeah, _definitely_ the dough balls,” Aster chuckles.

The two are silent for a second before both of them erupt into laughter, the last of Aster’s half-finished braids coming loose once more as it slips out of a giggling Terassis’ fingers. After a moment or so, Terassis rubs the corner of her eye with her knuckle, wiping away her tears of laughter. The two settle into a comfortable silence as the princess weaves her fingers through the final plait. When Terassis’ work is complete, she takes a step back, her eyes scanning the levitated parchment one more time. _Four braids in the middle? Check. Less than a half centimetre gap between each one? Check. No pins visible? Check. Aster looks beautiful?_

Check.

Terassis leans over her friend, grabbing a small hand mirror on her sink counter. She holds up the mirror behind Aster’s head and watches her friend’s eyes light up. “You’re ready.”


	5. Commencement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this chapter contains references to blood and other sacrificial imagery. Proceed with caution.

Aster has stepped foot in the royal temple thousands of times, but today, it is _different_. 

The architecture is the same as always; gold-adorned pillars flank the round chamber’s perimeter, leaf trim lining the base of each one. A hint of sandalwood lingers in the air, as though incense has burned through the temple for hours and has only recently been extinguished. Lit candles placed around the outline of the room flicker as they warm Aster’s skin. The golden statue of the goddess stands proud in the center of the room, flanked by a circle of engraved iron offering bowls. The statue’s stained-glass wings are no larger; her talons no sharper; the scales that climb up her neck no more leathery- but the temple is _different_.

Aster is used to having the entire congregation’s eyes on her. She barely remembers the first time she toddled into the temple, her hand gently steadied by a priestess’, but she can nevertheless still feel the way they all stared at her as though she had done something special. She is intimately familiar with the look in the acolytes’ eyes when they spot her pocketing extra snacks or staying in the temple after hours, all parties well aware that they will let her get away with it. She has become accustomed to their polite smiles as she recites sonnets on the nature of life and the greatness of its bringer. Yet as Aster’s gaze sweeps across the room and onto the sight of dozens of temple-goers staring directly at her, the feeling is _different_ ; the initiated fold are looking at her not as one watches a precocious child, but as one greets a new friend.

Aster’s eyes dart from the crowd surrounding the room’s center to the golden Meaphidae in the center of the room to High Priest Cepheus, standing next to a plinth with a stone bowl atop it, his fingers coiled around a thin silver staff. She half-sways as if to take a step forward before glancing at the priest, waiting for some kind of command or permission. Cepheus nods, and Aster takes cautious steps toward the center of the room. The temple is quiet; far quieter than it ought to be given the crowd, and as her slippers shuffle upon the circular jade tiles, the patter echoes around the chamber. She takes what she assumes is her place in front of the priest, her thumbs twiddling away at her sides. 

“Aster,” he says, flashing her a brief but warm smile. “It is the temple’s pleasure to welcome you to your commencement.”

“It’s my pleasure to be here.”

“Before we begin, you must first answer a series of questions.”

Aster swallows, giving the high priest a vigorous nod. “Okay.”

“Do you wish to complete your initiation to the Temple of Meaphidae?”

“I do.”

“Your mother and father chose to give up their lives in devotion to Meaphidae. Do you vow to dedicate yours to her with the same vigour?” 

Aster reaches her fingertips to her collarbone where her hair would normally sit; she instead twists the tip of her robe, gently rubbing it between her fingers. “I do.”

“Do you vow to take all future actions in Meaphidae’s name, and act as her ambassador?”

“I do.”

“Do you vow to honour the sanctity of this ritual and all future rituals, and maintain their private nature?” Cepheus maintains eye contact with Aster, studying her closely as she stands before the crowd.

“...I do.”

“And do you consider yourself worthy to stand before Meaphidae and receive her gift?”

Aster’s brows furrow, and she casts her eyes to the ground. “...I don’t think it’s up to me. But I... think I’m worthy enough to at least ask for it.”

“Very well,” Cepheus nods. “Are you ready to begin?”

Aster sucks in a deep breath and wipes her palms on the side of her robes. “Yes. I am.”

* * *

Cepheus stands near the back of the room, next to the thick double doors directly across from the main entrance. The crowd surrounds Aster from all directions, silent and waiting. She stares down at the stone bowl in front of her, her reflection rippling in the candlelight.

Cepheus taps his staff twice on the tiled floor; as he speaks, his voice booms unnaturally loudly throughout the circular chamber. “Meaphidae gives life so that we might live it. She gives us trees so that we might bask in their shade; she gives us figs so that we might eat them; she gives us the sun so that we might grow; she gives us storms so that we might weather them. By cleansing your face with stormwater from the Eastern jungle, you immerse yourself in Meaphidae’s design. You cleanse yourself of your previous ties and begin anew among her creation. Place your hands into the bowl and surround yourself with the life she creates.”

Aster hesitates for a second, her eyes sweeping around the room to ensure she has not missed some secret cue or additional step in the ritual, nor some way that by following the priest’s instructions, she would be somehow doing it wrong. Neither any of the initiated temple-goers nor Cepheus speaks another word, and Aster wonders whether they can hear her heart pounding the same way she can. She pushes both the sleeves of her deep grey robe up to her elbows and reaches forward. 

As her hands brush the stormwater, Aster is half-expecting some great revelation or new sensation; perhaps it will crack with static lightning or the feel of the stormwater on her skin will grant her some new truth. Her first thought as she finally plunges them into the stone bowl is that it simply feels like water. She cups her hands together and leans in front of the bowl, sploshing some of it onto her cheeks and shivering a little from the cold. Water drips down her face, forming small droplets on the tip of her chin. Aster glances up at the priest in search of some kind of validation that she did it properly.

Cepheus continues, “Our Goddess Meaphidae, we grant you the eternal devotion of this servant, cleansed by your blessings and immersed in your creation.” He turns to the crowd and opens his hand outward, giving the fold a single nod. Rustling fills the room as the temple-goers all reach out their hands, holding them to the sky on cue. The priest’s gaze turns back to Aster. “The sacred nature of this world’s creation demands it only be revealed in the presence of faithful servants to the Goddess; we confirm your fidelity today with your first glimpse into the world’s beginnings.”

The creation of the _entire world_. Aster’s hands clasp together and she instinctively rises to her tip-toes as she stares up at Cepheus with wide eyes, ready to hang on to every word. Cepheus remains silent; then, magic pours out of the temple-goers' hands, the walls fading into a jet-black starscape gold as the crowd melts away. 

The room is no more; Aster is surrounded by dark sky with freckles of light in all directions. She jerks back instinctively, her head spinning as she backs away. She makes it all of two steps before her back hits something hard and steady; as she lets out a soft yelp, it dawns on her that the golden pillar had been behind her. She thinks back to Terassis sitting across from her after magic lessons. Aster was scarfing down dates as her friend absentmindedly raised her finger, the tiny image of a caterpillar levitating in the air above her. Amazed that Terassis had somehow created an insect, created _life_ ; Aster had reached for it; her hand phasing through the insect upon contact. Terassis had giggled, explaining that illusion magic is beautiful, but fundamentally unstable. Aster had rattled off dozens of different objects; brick, dining plate, perfume bottle, knife, butterfly net, and the princess had manifested each one- all of them detailed and present but none of them _real_. Aster brushes herself off, standing up tall once more and gazing upon the illusory starscape. 

“Meaphidae began with the sun.” The voice is undoubtedly Cepheus’, and yet it _isn’t_ ; he speaks not as the high priest delivering an impassioned sermon, but as though he is reciting something much older than himself, and much more powerful. The room rumbles as a flaming ball of energy soars past Aster; despite understanding its nature, she can’t help but to jump a little as the ball explodes into the air, the room filling with bright light. “She gave the world the sun, and yet it had nothing to shine on. So Meaphidae gave the world plants, bringing forth trees and vines and flowers from beneath us to bask in its light.” A thick tangle of green springs forth from the floor, the smell of dew and pollen filling the chamber as it does. The once-invisible pillar behind Aster takes form, fading into the sturdy trunk of a kapok tree. She pulls away from it, lest she disturb the integrity of the spell, instead turning in a small circle as the temple around her transforms into a lush jungle.

Cepheus continues, “and yet the plants had nothing to cast shade upon, so Meaphidae gave the world animals.” The loud screech of a monkey cuts through the air as the leaves part. Aster bends down to get a glimpse at what might emerge; a small frog leaps from the greenery, hopping right by her and into a small pond. “Yet the animals had nothing to eat, so Meaphidae gave the world insects, small creatures to sustain the forest, to spread its pollen, to give it life.” It is only after crickets begin to chirp around Aster that she realizes how _wrong_ the jungle had felt without their sound. A butterfly flaps around her head, dancing circles around her before landing on a nearby leaf. Before Aster can get a closer look at it, a thick green serpent coils around the plant, unhinging its jaw and swallowing it whole. She cringes a little at the sight, glancing where she expects Cepheus is standing.

“Yet the bugs and the animals and the plants and the sun were incomplete, for there was no one of sound mind to live among Meaphidae’s creation. Meaphidae gave form to the life around her, turning vines to arms, rocks to head, sticks to fingers, berries to eyes.” The landscape changes before her eyes once more, this time taking shape toward her. Two of the tangled vines shoot toward her, coiling up and around her arms. Aster feels no tight grip encircling her, but the sight of them nevertheless makes her stomach lurch. The thick of the forest grows around her, branches extending toward her as though it wants to swallow her whole. The kapok tree bends its trunk toward her, and she instinctively squeezes her eyes shut tight before it can grab onto her. 

She opens her eyes after a second, feeling almost silly for being afraid of an illusion; when she does, the forest has darkened, the trees overhead having blocked out most of the light. Cepheus continues, “From the land around her, Meaphidae created the first living person, designed to bask among its riches.” A single beam of light shines through, directly onto Aster. “But the first of our people only lived among the land they were granted; they did not bask. They moved through the world and survived its conditions, but they did not love. The Goddess Meaphidae knew what she must do.”

The trees rustle above Aster, some of the canopy shying away to make way for another beam of light directly in front of her. The leaves part in the light’s wake, and Meaphidae steps out of the thick.

It isn’t really _her_ , Aster can tell. This is a copy of Meaphidae borne of her devotees’ minds; otherwise, her image would transcend the illusory terrain somehow. Aster isn’t positive exactly what would distinguish the real Meaphidae from a representation of her, be it physical touch or innate knowledge, but though this Meaphidae shines brighter than any part of the rainforest around them, she is still part of it. Nevertheless, as Meaphidae takes slow, deliberate steps toward Aster, she can feel tears welling up in the back of her eyes.

Aster knows the look a mother gives her child. She has seen it time and time again; dozens of mothers have brought their children to the temple, bouncing them on their knees and smiling as though they were the most precious thing in the world. Distant as Empress Ariadne may be, Aster has seen the way the empress tenderly strokes Terassis’ hair before taking her seat on the throne during ceremonies, like she sees her own eyes in Terassis’ and can intimately feel everything that could possibly harm her. She is more than used to the sight of children running among the flowers in the royal garden, tripping over the half-buried rock next to the tiger lillies and skinning their knees; the way their mothers rush over and tenderly scold them for their carelessness while bandaging them up is intimately familiar by now. Indeed, Aster knows the look well, but she has never _felt_ it for herself. Yet as this Meaphidae stares down at her first creation, Aster stares back up, awed and reverent, and she _understands_.

“We moved without passion; we survived without love,” Cepheus declares, “and Meaphidae knew what we lacked.” The sharp tip of the goddess’s talon glints in the sunbeam. As she traces a pointed claw down her own chest, blood beads through the red line. Meaphidae’s wings wrap around her middle, and she grips onto either side of the wound. Slowly, deliberately, the goddess peels back her skin, displaying her chest cavity to Aster. Aster cringes away, nausea bubbling up in her stomach, but she is unable to completely avert her eyes as Meaphidae plunges her claws into her chest cavity and rips out her own heart. “The Goddess made the ultimate sacrifice; she tore out her heart and granted its power to every creature in her realm.” 

The still-beating heart begins to glow, collecting more and more light by the second until beams of pure radiance shoot from its center, first one up to the sky, then another to the earth, then another directly into Aster’s chest; and then its light streams in every direction, bold and blinding and only lasting a second before vanishing entirely. Aster breaks eye contact with Meaphidae for just one moment and surveys the jungle once more. Nothing new has been added to the undergrowth; the trees and frogs and insects are the same ones Aster laid eyes upon a few seconds ago, and yet everything is far more alive. A macaw flaps past Aster, but this time, before it lands upon the forest’s branches, it _dances_ ; twirling and spinning through the air and chittering happily, as though it had only now just learned how to be a bird. Aster may not have been truly given a new heart just a second ago, but nevertheless, as she gazes upon the forest, now jovial and abuzz and _alive_ , she cannot help but to let out a joyful giggle, tears still welling up in her eyes as she does.

“Through our Goddess Meaphidae’s sacrifice, the first of our kind was filled with love and passion and joy; yet the power of a goddess’ heart was too much for our bodies to contain. The first of us lived in a paradise of light and green and beauty, and yet their heart weighed on them, and they were lonely. And seeing that they were lonely, Meaphidae gave them companions, so that they might feel one another’s love.” The vines twist and turn, vegetation once more turning to flesh before Aster’s eyes as Meaphidae brings forth the fully formed bodies of new people from the ground. A young man stands on his tiptoes, plucking a papaya from a nearby tree. Two women whisper into one another’s ears, sharing a laugh that rings through the jungle. A gatherer leans down on the muddy ground and carefully studies a collection of flaxes. 

“But as night fell, the people shivered. And seeing that they were cold, Meaphidae gave them silkworms, so that they might make clothing.” The illusory Meaphidae nods her head, and silk robes feather out from their bodies. Sleeves pool around their wrists and cloaks spill down their backs, blues and greens and elaborate gold trims adorning their figures. Aster has felt no new weight on her body, yet when she glances down at her own arms, her grey temple robes have been replaced with an emerald gown, heliconia petals embossed on the sleeves. 

Aster is staring down at her clothing when a low growl behind her rumbles through the air. Fear clouds the faces around her, and she spins on her heels to see the eyes of a snarling jaguar glow in the bushes only a few meters away. Aster backs away on instinct as the cat stalks toward her, its eyes locked on her figure. The world around her freezes for a moment as the jaguar sizes her up as though daring her to make a move; and then it lets out a deep growl and leaps toward her, claws out. She screams, crouching to the ground and covering her head with her hands and screwing her eyes shut tight. Aster holds still, just shaking, and then Cepheus’ voice booms above her. “But the people were weak. And seeing that they were weak, Meaphidae gave them magic, so that with their power they might defend themselves.” 

The priest’s voice grounds Aster back in reality, and she opens her eyes, awkwardly pushing herself back up to standing and surveying the room once more. A tall woman raises her hand up to the snarling beast, and bright light shoots from her palm. The jaguar’s eyes widen and it hops back. She snaps her fingers and thunder cracks through the air. The ground rumbles under Aster’s feet, and the jaguar lets out a loud yelp as it bolts back into the wilderness. The people are still for just one moment. They exchange glances, not only with one another, but also with Aster; and then they laugh. Joy and relief ring through the air, and Aster can’t help but to join in with the laughter.

“The people were happy. And Meaphidae saw that they were happy, and promised them eternal joy. Our kind could live among the rest of our world in peace and joy, and were asked to promise only one thing in exchange.” Silence strikes the crowd once again, and they quietly kneel, their heads tilted up to the sky. Aster glances around her, and she suddenly feels out of place, as though standing among the kneeling fold is wrong. She drops down to her knees as well, glancing left and right as she waits for context. “Meaphidae gave them all they could ever wish for, and asked only that they never forget from whence they came. She asked that they always remember her gifts, and the people swore to her that they would.” As Aster stares up at the sky, the sunbeam warms her cheeks.

“The people made great progress, just as Meaphidae had wished. They learned to cut stones in the right shapes to make bricks, to lay them together so as to build homes, to warm themselves with fire and sunlight, to raise children of their own.” As Cepheus speaks, the world begins to speed up; first, the people rise to their feet unnaturally quickly, and the sun starts to creep toward the horizon. As Aster stands and steadies herself, the sun rises and falls dozens of times, night turning to day over and over again as though someone is extinguishing and relighting an oil lamp every second. The people turn to fleshy blurs as the forest shifts around her. Trees disappear in one second, and pagodas replace them the next. The clearing grows by the second, gaps filled with cottages and fountains and planters. 

And then the movement stops, and Aster takes stock of her surroundings once more. She stands on a marble floor, and the pillar beside her is a pillar again, grapevines wrapped around its height as bunches of fruit dangle in midair. Three children are playing jump rope across the floor, the cord rhythmically thwacking onto the ground. A man and a woman sit on a fountain bench, the man cupping her face and leaning in for a kiss. Another strolls by; they glance at Aster and flash her a warm smile, and she gives them a polite nod in response. 

“But they grew complacent, and over time, they began to overlook the origin of their luxury. They forgot the day of their creation, they forgot the gift Meaphidae granted them, and most importantly, they forgot her sacrifice.” The light dims, and Aster glances up at the sky to see dark, heavy clouds roll in. The clicking of the jump rope ceases as a soft murmur rises from the crowd. “In forgetting Meaphidae’s sacrifice, they forgot her might. The gift of Meaphidae’s heart had been squandered. And she demanded restitution.” The noise of stone scraping against the ground sounds behind Aster, and she turns to see Meaphidae once more. 

This is still not the true Meaphidae; she towers over Aster and the ground shakes with every step she takes, but she is still not _real_. Nevertheless, a shiver runs down her spine as this Meaphidae strides toward the crowd. A razor-sharp talon extends toward the pair by the fountain, Meaphidae’s heels crashing onto the tile. The man and woman stare into one another’s eyes, both panicked and tearful. The goddess towers before the pair and extends her claw toward the woman. Aster’s nails dig into the palms of her hands as she watches the scene, paralyzed. Meaphidae’s talons trace the front of the woman’s robe, the sound of tearing fabric whining through the air. Blood stains the tip of the goddess’ claw, and she reaches forward to claim her first heart; before she can pull the woman’s chest open, the man rises to his feet, shoving his companion out of the way and dropping to his knees in front of Meaphidae. The woman backs away on all fours before shoving herself up and scampering into the bushes. 

The man glances at the crowd that has formed around him, meeting Aster’s eyes for just one second. She stares back, shaking her head at him as if to ask him what the hell he’s doing. He wronged Meaphidae; he _betrayed_ her after everything she did for him. He should plead for forgiveness, not stare back at Aster as though she has any power to help him. The man stretches his arms out in both directions, opening his chest up at the goddess’ feet; he closes his eyes, and it dawns on Aster what exactly he is doing. Cepheus’ voice rings through the air, “His heart demanded that he give up his life to save those around him, and so the man knelt before our Goddess Meaphidae and presented himself for sacrifice.”

Murmurs rise among the crowd; the old and young alike whisper among each other and gawk at the scene before them, but not one steps forward to stop the sacrifice. Meaphidae is still; she stares down the trembling man for at least ten heartbeats, her eyes scanning him as if to decipher his intentions. Her head rotates toward the crowd, and her limbs creak as she turns her body to face them. Panic grips Aster’s throat; she’s watching them and judging them and Aster has done something wrong by being in this group and she knows this Meaphidae isn’t real and she wants to drop down and apologize to Meaphidae and she’s _wrong_ and she needs her forgiveness and-

“Meaphidae was moved by the offer; sacrificing the life of one so that the others might live and thrive. But the deal was too simple. Only the man who gave up his life would learn to show thanks to the goddess; the others would take no lesson from his loss. No, the people who forgot Meaphidae’s gift would have to do the deed themselves.” Meaphidae steps toward the fold, tiles cracking under her weight. The goddess’ shadow grows taller as she treads in Aster’s direction, standing at her full height directly above her. She produces a jade knife and turns the flesh of her claws to the sky, her neck craning down to look at Aster. 

Aster swallows hard, uncertainty bubbling up inside her as she stares up at her goddess. Meaphidae does not respond, her gaze stone and her hands turned to the sky, the knife still resting in her left palm. Aster turns her head around to look at the other people, searching for guidance or pity or help or _anything_ , but they only stare back as though they expect her to act. Aster’s gaze turns back to the goddess towering above her; only half-convinced that she is doing the right thing, she holds out the palms of her hands together, her shoulder blades tensing behind her back. Meaphidae nods her head and turns her claws downward, the jade knife dropping into Aster’s hands. Aster doesn’t expect to feel sensation as she is handed the dagger, and yet as it falls from Meaphidae’s hands to Aster’s, it has _weight_. Her fingers curl around the dagger, once again half-expecting them to phase through it, but they grasp tightly onto it, and despite the illusory nature of the world around her, it is somehow _real_. Aster’s face drops, her baffled stare turning to gradual horror as she realizes what this means.

“Meaphidae turned to the first living person; the first she had created, the first to receive her gifts, the only one to witness her sacrifice with their own eyes. And she demanded that they cut out the man’s heart and present it to her. She promised that she would allow our kind to live and thrive with her protection and love so long as her first creation did so, and so long as the people remembered her gift and showed their reverence to the world around them. And so the first of her creations stepped forward and raised the dagger above their head, ready to plunge it into the man’s chest.” 

Aster shakes her head, her hand still grasping the dagger as she takes two steps back. The crowd rumbles in disapproval, all eyes on her, _waiting_ , expecting. The man has not budged, still kneeling, eyes still closed, arms still open wide to the sky. This is _wrong_ ; she can’t do it, and yet these people are _expecting_ it; Meaphidae will rip out the hearts of every person in this square if Aster doesn’t do it, and it’s not real but it’s not how this _happens_ , and it must be just a little bit real because she can _feel_ the knife heavy in her hand. The people are watching her, and they’re expecting it and they must be terrified for their lives too and she stares up at Meaphidae and the goddess just _watches_ her with that _look_. It’s the same look Meaphidae gave her when she brought Aster forth from the ground; it’s the look Ariadne gives to Terrassis and the mothers at the temple give their children.

It’s the look that does it for Aster.

She steps forward once more, her grip tightening around the dagger as she stands in front of the man. Her heart pounds and she raises the dagger above her head, holding it there with wide eyes. Aster avoids staring down at the man’s face, her eyes instead locked on Meaphidae’s form, panting, waiting for permission or approval or _something_. 

“The man understood his duty to give up his life for the others, and the first living person understood their duty to show reverence to Meaphidae. And so before the goddess herself, they plunged the dagger into his heart and cut it out of his body.” Aster sucks in a deep breath, ready to do the deed, and then she stares down at the man and she sees his face once again. 

“I can’t. I can’t do it,” Aster mumbles under her breath. Hearing her own speaking voice grounds her somehow; this man isn’t just the first sacrifice, he isn’t just the man who forgot Meaphidae’s gift. He is the thing standing between her and the end of commencement; he is the barrier to being granted her _own_ gift. He is the price she and evidently every member of the Temple of Meaphidae must pay for the power to enact her will. He is a barrier and nothing more; he isn’t real, but he _is_ and the knife is so heavy with her arms so high and it would be such a relief to let them drop. 

Aster pants, in and out, and the dagger rests above her head, ready to draw blood. She can’t do it and she has to do it and she can’t do it and she has to do it and Meaphidae is _staring_ at her and Cepheus’ voice booms overhead once more, repeating the line louder and slower and Aster just _screams_ and she brings her arms down in a quick arc and her full body’s weight is behind her as the knife plunges into his chest, and he just shrieks and she crumples into a heap of fabric on the tile, her eyes squeezed shut tight. 

All Aster hears are the pounding of her heart and her own ragged breathing. She gasps for air over and over, both hands still clutching onto the knife, and she just stays there on the ground, shaking and gasping. All the scents of the jungle seem to blend together and fade away to nothing, and as her heartbeat gradually slows, it dawns on her that the sounds of rustling leaves and murmuring crowds are no more either. She sucks in three more deep breaths, still crouched down on the floor, and then carefully, as though the world may disappear from her grasp if she does it wrong, she opens her eyes.

The crowd’s eyes are on her once more, but this time, it is all familiar faces; she is crumpled in the center of the circular temple, the pillar to her right, the devotees all around her, and Cepheus by the back door. Dark grey temple robes pool on the floor beneath her, free of emerald silk or heliconia petals or sacrificial blood. She stares down at the weight in her hands; her white-knuckled grip is clenched around an old spellcasting rod. Aster drops the rod; it falls a couple of centimetres and clatters to the floor, the sound echoing around the temple. With shaking hands, Aster reaches for her knees, pulling them tight to her chest. 

She closes her eyes once again, just for a second, and the patter of shoes on tile sounds around the room. A firm hand rests upon her shoulder, steadying her, and Aster looks up to see Cepheus standing behind her. “Aster,” he says, his voice now soft and devoid of echo, “are you alright?”

The hazy edges of the room clear as Aster scrambles to her feet. “Yes. I’m fine. I’m alright. I can keep going. What’s next?”

Cepheus raises a brow, “Are you certain? If you change your mind-”

“No! No, I’m doing this. I need this.” Aster stares down at the rod lying at her feet. “Is this my magic? Do I- I mean, do I have it now? Is it…?”

“No, Aster.” The high priest turns his back to Aster and paces toward the back door. “Almost.”

When Cepheus returns from the back storeroom, he is carrying a bronze incense bowl embossed with leaves, both arms supporting its weight. Aster stands in the center of the room, her left hand wrapped around her right wrist, tapping her and Terassis’ knock on her forearm over and over again- fast-slow, fast-slow, fast-slow. Her eyes turn to the ceremonial bowl, watching the tiniest hints of green smoke that escape from its lid as they waft from the burner and dissipate into the air. 

Cepheus places the incense bowl on the plinth in the room’s center, where the stormwater had sat previously. He grabs the staff that leaned against a pillar and taps it twice; his voice booms once more. “You have received her cleansing,” he says. “You have received her knowledge. You will now receive her gift.”

Aster takes a step forward, her eyes darting from the bowl to Cepheus and back to the bowl again. The hard part is over; she’d learned the story and she’d done the right thing and surely Meaphidae will be proud of her. She’ll see Aster’s commitment, her _devotion_ , and however this works, she’ll deem Aster worthy of her magic. She will. She _has to._

Cepheus declares, “Meaphidae is seen in all she creates; she is both the ant and the anteater, the storm and the snapped branch, but her true form will not be seen with the naked eye. As you lift the lid and ingest the smoke of the burning orchids, you will look upon our goddess. You will look upon your foundational memories, and if you are deemed worthy and prepared, Meaphidae will grant you the gift of magic.” Aster’s hands clench and unclench as she stands in front of the bowl. She glances up at Cepheus for approval; upon seeing his nod, she lifts the metal lid, and a plume of smoke bursts forth from the dish. Aster leans over the smoke, closing her eyes shut tight and inhaling a deep breath. 

Aster coughs as smoke fills her lungs; it’s mild and almost _sweet_ , yet her body still aches to expel it. She takes three more deep inhales for good measure; for a moment, nothing feels different at all, and then her knees wobble underneath her and her body hits the ground. 

* * *

A mountain. Sacred. Snowy peaks bleed into puffy clouds. Cold wind bites skin. A roaring crowd. Aster is here and she is small and she is being held. Hazy vision around the peak; tattered edges. Like the edges of parchment, and Aster is four. Pencil in her fist like dagger and rod. Sky rhymes with pie and Aster is laughing in delight. Delight, and there is Terassis. Running through the jungle. Flowers and fresh rain in the air. Slipping and wet socks. Terassis’ arm outstretched. Hands touch and Aster’s hand brushes dust off a tome. Flickering light and the smell of beeswax. Aster has never been here before and she has been here a million times. Dark hair spills onto the paper. Aster’s hair and yet it has never been this long before.

Fingers feather through pages and pages and fingers feather through green dust. Sand falls to the floor. Heaps at Aster’s feet. Heaps spanning the horizon and on and on into the blurred edges. Dry air cracks skin and Aster steps forward, shoe caught on dust pile and falling into green. Heavy landing on the ground. Temple bathroom and water rushes down the sink. Loud and rushing and louder than her thoughts. Aster stands to silence the tap and the mirror pulls her gaze. 

Aster is here but Aster isn’t _Aster._ Lines on her face and skin pale and pulled taut over bone and matted hair and pointed teeth. She recoils and her eyes close and open and Terassis is there and the haze across the edges of her vision clears.

Terassis is older, her cheekbones raised and the hints of crows’ feet on the sides of her eyes. Ariadne’s crown is Terassis’ now; she bears the weight upon her head with quiet determination. She rests her eyes upon Aster and rises from her throne. Aster glances down at her hands, and the skin is _hers_ again, backs of her hands soft and smooth and pen-holding fingers slightly callused. Terassis steps down the three marble stairs leading up to her throne and faces her friend.

“Aster,” Terassis says, and she speaks Aster’s name as though she has not heard it in years and is only now just remembering it. “How is the poem going?”

“I… uh… are you you? And are we us?”

“I never see you anymore,” Terassis says, tilting her head to the side as she studies Aster. “Where have you been?”

“It’s… I mean, I saw you a few minutes ago, but you were you _now_. I have a lot going on right now, but I’m doing commencement and it’s just been so overwhelming, and I really just want Meaphidae to tell me I’ve earned it.”

“I see,” Terassis nods. The empress glances around the throne room, and it only just crosses Aster’s mind that the walls are devoid of creeping vines. “Do you know your lines yet? Or are you still rewriting them?”

“What do you mean?”

“No. Forgive me.” Terassis steps closer to Aster, looking her square in the eyes. “You haven’t started yet.” She reaches her arm out to cup Aster’s cheek, staring at her as one would stare at an old friend who one hadn’t seen in years. “Stay Aster for me just a little longer. I’ll see you soon.” The walls fade into the same starscape that the congregation had summoned, and Terassis’ image bleeds away with them. 

Aster stands on the marble platform, staring out into the vast night sky, and power stirs inside her. Whatever Meaphidae looks like, whatever she says to Aster, it is time and she is here. Aster’s fingertips drum on the side of her leg as she waits, and then a voice, deep and gravelly, rattles her. 

“You seek power.” 

Oily black tentacles spring forth from the sky, too far away for Aster to gauge their size, but as they near her, the stars seem to blink out of the heavens, one at a time. She is frozen in place as amorphous black liquid pools on the age of the platform, shambling toward her; and then it takes form, stacking on top of itself in the shape of a humanoid with the head of a cobra. “I can give it to you,” it says, and it extends its reach toward Aster. 

“I… Meaphidae sent you,” she breathes, studying it closely. “She sent you to give me magic.” 

Its reptilian mouth curves into a smile; the amorphous liquid below it forms into tentacles. Like an octopus crawling on an ocean floor, the creature shambles toward her. “Yes,” it says, and its tongue flicks out of its mouth, tasting the air around it. “I come from beyond the stars. But I cannot reach you. _Meaphidae_ cannot reach you.”

Aster’s brows furrow. “What? Why not? Did I do something wrong?”

“Not _you_ ,” it tells her, “ _all_ of you are beyond her grasp. And Sheora aches at her loss.”

“So she’s… not here?” She glances down at the ground and steadies her jaw before staring back up at the messenger. “What do we do about it?”

“Patience. The time is not yet right, and its wounds will not bleed before they are ready. I will grant you power, and when the time comes to ascend, the goddess will return, and we will usher in great progress.”

“We? You and Meaphidae?”

“No, child,” the messenger says, and it extends an oily arm to Aster. Its tentacles propel it forward until its hands are just centimetres from her face. “You and I.” It extends closer and closer until its fingers _brush_ against her forehead, and then power courses through her body, bright and hot and _alive_. Her vision blurs for just one moment, and when it returns, the messenger is gone. She has only a split second to process Meaphidae’s gift before the platform beneath her vanishes as she plummets through the starscape. 

Aster’s eyes snap open, and she is lying on the temple floor, staring up at the colourful ceiling above her. She pushes herself to a sitting-up position and stares down at the rest of her body. Nothing on the outside has changed, no matted hair or magical rune adorning her figure, but something new runs through her veins. Everyone knows that Meaphidae is a part of everything in Sheora; she lives in every mountain and dust speck, but whatever lives inside of Aster transcends simple nature. It is new and dynamic and raw, and it _screams_ to be released from her body and put to use. A grin creeps onto Aster’s face, and she scrambles to her feet, triumphant.

Meaphidae _chose_ her.

Cepheus’ voice sounds through the room once more. “Our Goddess Meaphidae, you have made your decision. Just as you first granted us the sun, we honour your choice and your grace with our own gift of light. We raise our hands to your heavens, and we raise our lights to you.” The congregation lifts their right arms above their heads, staring up at the sky, and then balls of white light emanate from their hands, setting the room aglow. Cepheus glances at Aster, nodding to her to join in. 

Aster should feel hesitant and afraid; she should wonder how to make her hand light up or how to know whether the spell will work or how to ensure it doesn’t backfire and somehow burn down the temple. Nevertheless, as her hand extends up to the sky, she _knows_ she has the power to light up the temple. She closes her eyes for just one moment, and magic shudders out of her, a glowing ball manifesting in the palm of her hand. Her eyes open and her grin turns to an outright laugh, pure joy shedding light on the temple walls. Her gaze turns to the faces of the other devotees. Their faces, too, are plastered with smiles of relief, and pride wells up in Aster’s chest. 

“We welcome Aster into the arms of Meaphidae,” Cepheus declares, “to bask in her creation and enact her will for as long as she shall live.”

The crowd repeats Cepheus’ words back to him, and Aster is moved to tears. 

  
  


* * *

Acolytes clean up the room, stacking cushions for storage and carrying the smoke burner to a back room for storage. The chamber has begun to clear; dozens of initiates have already stopped by Aster to welcome her into the temple’s inner sanctum on their way out. She sways back and forth on the balls of her feet, waiting for the final stragglers to clear out. When the last of the throng has left the building, she ventures into the back room to see Cepheus wiping down the bronze pot. She clears her throat to alert him of her presence, giving him a small wave as he turns to see her.

“Aster. How are you feeling?” The high priest stops the cleaning, tucking the cloth into his robe pockets and diverting his full attention to her.

“Um. Hi, High Priest Cepheus. Thanks for asking. Commencement was… it was a lot. I mean, I’m so thankful and this is amazing and I _feel_ amazing, but I just… wanted to check in, I guess?”

“Of course,” Cepheus nods. “Conflicted feelings about Meaphidae are very common after commencement, Aster. It’s a difficult period, and it often requires some adjusting-”

“No. No. Nothing like that! I mean, she’s Meaphidae. She’s amazing.” Aster glances down at the palms of her hands. “ _This_ is amazing. But my vision. Um, her messenger said some things that sounded a little… they sounded like you might want to hear them.”

“Aster,” Cepheus says. “It may be tempting to discuss the contents of your correspondence with Meaphidae with others, but she did not speak to the congregation. She spoke to _you_. Her words are for you and you alone, and they are uniquely sacred.”

“So it’s… different for everyone, then. She wouldn’t say the same thing to all of us?”

“Of course not. When Meaphidae looks upon you, she sees your very essence. She sees you as closely as she sees the first of our kind, and her message is to you alone. She may be cryptic, and her words may be difficult to process. But they are _yours_ and yours only, and when Meaphidae granted you her gift, she _saw_ you.”

“Right. Okay.” Aster rubs the back of her neck. “And would she always look like… the way she looks in her statue and in the story? Or could her message come in, you know. Different forms?”

Cepheus smiles, resting a hand on the front of Aster’s shoulder. “Meaphidae’s word comes in as many variations as there are grains of sand on a beach.”

Aster nods, a small smile breaking out on her face. “Okay. That’s good to hear. That’s what I thought. Um, if it’s okay, I think I’m going to go talk to Terassis? She wanted to see my magic after, and… she might think the light ball is pretty cool.”

Cepheus raises a brow. “Aster,” he warns. 

“I know. I know. Respect the sanctity of our traditions. I just want to show her the magic. That’s okay, right?”

“Yes,” he sighs, “that’s okay.” 

Aster musters a composed “thank you” and a polite bow. She glances at the temple doors, and speedwalks as quickly as could possibly be still considered polite; once she reaches the open door, she dashes through the marble roads, her braids coming loose as she speeds to the palace entrance.

* * *

Terassis paces in a circle in the corridor, glancing up occasionally at the ornate clock that hangs on the central wall. _Commencements are usually about forty-five minutes long, right?_ They had embraced and Aster had made her way to the temple at eleven forty-five; it’s six to one. Accounting for setup, the ceremony should have begun at noon; then whatever they do in there should have taken forty-five minutes, and it should have taken six for Aster to run back, meaning she is five minutes behind schedule. 

What if they had told her no? Terassis presses her lips in a thin line as the thought enters her head. Aster is devout, and capable, and dedicated, but what if they had rejected her for some bizarre reason? Maybe she snuck out of the palace too many times, or the priests don’t like how much time she spends with Terassis, or maybe somehow Aster overthought the commencement and made some kind of mistake. What would Aster do? What would Terassis say? Aster has Terassis, and she always will, and she has her poetry, but the temple is her _family_. What if Aster has nowhere to go?

Terassis is compiling her eighth mental list of possible problems with the ceremony when Aster runs into her arms.

The tension drains from the princess’ shoulders as a smile of relief crosses her face. “Aster! There you are! It’s so good to see you!” Terassis says, rubbing Aster’s back. Aster gives Terassis a tight squeeze before taking a step back, lightly holding her friend by her forearms.

“Terassis! It’s done! It happened! And it was… I mean it was insanein there. I mean, it was just… wow.”

“What happened?” Terassis smiles, before scrunching her nose. “Wait. That’s right. You’re not allowed to tell me, right?”

“I…” Aster pauses for a moment. She glances down at the ground and says, “I can’t. I’m sorry. _But_ ,” she declares, a smile reappearing on her face, “I _can_ show you this. Check it out.”

Aster backs up a couple of paces and holds her hand up to the sky. She breathes in and out, concentrating for just a moment, and then light emerges from the palm of her hand. Terassis’ eyes widen as the glowing ball raises to the ceiling, spinning and dancing and twirling until Aster waves her hand and dismisses it. The divine light is different from Terassis’ arcane spells somehow; Terassis’ spells are borne of focus and study and experimentation. Aster’s magic is something else. The light never grew within her; it was never a part of her and now it just _is_ , and Aster is _beaming_ and full of power and beautiful.

“Aster! You did it! Oh my- _you can do magic!_ And you’re already amazing at it!” Terassis reaches for her friend and yanks her into another hug, shaking her a bit as she does. “ _I_ can’t even do that light spell! I mean I can make a little light appear but you made it _move_ and _dance_ and it’s _gorgeous_ and I’m _so proud of you_!” She squeezes her friend. “How are you feeling? Is it as amazing as you hoped?”

“I feel good! I feel… relieved. I guess. I mean… she wanted me, you know? It’s over and she wanted me and I can start doing proper temple stuff and it’s a relief,” Aster tells her, nodding to herself as she speaks. “And I made it, you know? So I can make it through anything.”

“I’m proud of you,” Terassis says, holding her tight for one more moment before releasing Aster from the hug. “So what comes next?”

“Well,” Aster begins, “Now I’ll get to practice magic with the other initiates, and I’ll get access to all the old books, and I’ll have to learn new rites to participate in, and Cepheus might ask me to start taking care of the building and trips to other temples with the leaders, and I’ll just… learn, I guess?”

Terassis chuckles, taking Aster by the hand. “No,” she says with a soft smile. “I mean what comes next _now_?”

“Oh.” Aster pauses for a moment, blinking twice. “...I don’t really know. Like… I guess I didn’t really have plans after this.”

Terassis quirks a brow, “No?”

“Nah. I mean, there’s the new year stuff tonight obviously, so maybe we should celebrate before it starts? Go up to one of the hills and bring snacks or visit the clearing or just read together or something? Ah, shit, no I can’t get temple snacks, they’re doing commencements all day. Uh, we both have magic now so maybe we can figure out if we can do any of the same stuff? Oh, or I guess there’s the garden if you wanna watch the flowers?”

“Hmmm.” With the hand that is not holding Aster’s, Terassis taps her chin with the tips of her fingernails. “I have an idea.”

Her other hand grasps Aster’s, and Terassis leans forward and kisses her.

Aster melts into the kiss, and she stays Aster for just a little longer.


	6. Halcyon

Terassis’ dumplings are the worst folded creations in the kingdom; they are Aster’s favourites. 

Aster sits on the island in the palace kitchen’s center, twisting and folding dumpling wrappers around a mix of pork, cabbage, and chives. Terassis’ elbows rest against the counter as she leans her weight onto it, halfheartedly folding dumpling wrappers as she stares up into Aster’s eyes. Fires roar beneath ceramic cauldrons in four fireplaces, all arranged in a line; the bubbling liquids in each one fill the room with the scent of cooked shrimp and lemongrass. 

In the late afternoon, this kitchen would be full of life; the sound of pots and pans banging together would ring throughout half the castle as all fifteen chefs hustle and bustle to prepare elaborate spreads for the entire palace. At this hour, however, Pavo is the only cook on duty. He stands in front of the hearths, squeezing lime juice into the soup as he takes in the smell. 

Terassis has no conception of her first memory with Pavo simply because she has no conception of a time without him; ever since she first toddled out of her guards’ supervision and into the kitchen, the kindly man was working tirelessly, always ready to offer her a midday snack. Growing up, rare afternoons without lessons with tutors and advisors would often be spent sharing a custard bun with Aster. As Pavo had filled Terassis’ purse with baked confections, he would often ask after her friend, sending her off with a smile and a full belly. Now, Pavo hums softly to himself before the cauldrons, giving the soup its much-needed attention and the lovers their much-needed privacy.

Terassis holds a small dumpling wrapper in the palm of her left hand, folding and pinching it closed with her right. She proudly lifts the chubby dumpling up to Aster with a grin mere instants before the wrapper splits, ground pork spilling out onto the kitchen island. Aster sweeps up the filling with the side of her hand, depositing it back into the bowl, and raises her eyebrows at Terassis. “Well,” she says, tilting her head toward a plate full of misshapen dumplings that are more wrapper than filling with a grin, “you didn’t under-fill it this time.”

Terassis sticks her tongue out at Aster before grabbing another wrapper. “I’ve never done this before! I’m still figuring out the ratio! If I just-”

“No! No, I’m impressed we actually found something you’re bad at! We should celebrate this!” Aster calls over her shoulder “I think this calls for cakes! Pavo, could you please get us some cakes?” 

“Shut _up_!” Terassis shout-whispers. As Aster erupts into giggles, Terassis tilts her head up to meet her, silencing Aster’s laughs with a soft kiss. 

Aster leans into the kiss, returning it for a moment before pulling back. “Hang on. Let me just clear up my schedule,” she says. She waves her hand in the air, murmuring a couple of quick words of prayer to Meaphidae under her breath. For just a moment, her right hand glows light green, and then the glowing light duplicates itself. A perfect, spectral copy of her hand floats down to the bowl. As it takes over Aster’s folding, she leans back down to Terassis and completes the kiss. “There we go,” she murmurs, her lips still pressed to the princess’. 

Terassis tilts her chin up, giving her girlfriend another quick peck. Her eyes drift to Aster’s spectral hand as it dutifully pinches perfect folds into dough. “You’ve gotten incredible at that,” she murmurs. “Honestly, its folds might be better than yours.”

“I know, right?” With Aster’s magic doing the job for her, her idle hands creep across the counter in search of something to do with them. Her fingers find a pinch-bowl of toasted seeds, which she sets in her lap. “Don’t get me wrong, there are way harder spells, but this one’s weirdly tough to practice, so I’m kinda proud.”

“You should be! You’re, what, the only person in the temple who’s figured out how to do it so far?” Terassis rests her chin on the backs of her hands, crossing her ankles over one another. “I hope folks aren’t getting jealous.”

Aster grins. “Honestly, you’d be surprised. Yesterday after study, Wisteria was carrying this big stack of tomes from the back, and her hands were too full to open the door, and I just- _whoosh_. She’s probably gonna be asking me to teach her that for the whole trip.”

At the mention of Aster’s trip, Terassis’ eyes dart briefly to the trees outside the kitchen window. Their shadows creep across the courtyard floor, already longer than last time she’d stolen a glance. _Best not to risk running out of time._ Magic rolls over Terassis’ hand, splitting from her fingertips like static shock, and soon, Aster’s spectral servant has a companion. The blue hand resumes Terassis’ pinching work; less skilled than Aster’s, yet still meeting the lowest bar of surpassing the princess’ own dumpling folds. “There,” she says. “We’ll just make sure everyone’s mouths are too full to bother you!”

“Oh, that’s _perfect_.” Aster pops a seed into her mouth. “Seriously, though, they’ll love these. Did you know the temple in Vali apparently doesn’t do Thursday fish cakes? _Or_ Monday dough balls? They just do one big group meal a month.”

“Wait, seriously? Why not?”

Aster shrugs, “I don’t know. High Priest Cepheus just said Vali was rougher around the edges than it is here. Whatever that means.”

“It _is_ pretty far out east. Maybe importing fish is too much effort.” Terassis’ eyes sweep the kitchen. “Wait…. should you maybe also be doing fish as part of your gift, then? I can ask Pavo if there’s anything extra in a coldbox here somewhere.”

“Aah. Oryon’s already bringing fish. He called dibs in, like, _seconds_. And then Wisteria called beeswax candles, and Augus called silk, and Catrice called books. Which are all things you can just _get_.” Aster rolls her eyes for dramatic effect, but hints of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth weaken the performance. 

“I guess that just means the congregation will be extra impressed with yours!” Terassis gestures toward the now-full glass platter of folded dumplings. She twists her wrist and dismisses her mage hand, “ _I’d_ take these over some fabric you could get anywhere any day.” 

“Good point! Then I don’t have to read them a whole bunch of poetry just to make a good impression.” Aster says, before winking at her girlfriend. “I can just read them a whole bunch of poetry for fun instead!”

“Exactly!” The joke elicits a giggle from Terassis. The princess shifts her weight to her tip-toes, deepening the lean onto the counter as she wraps her arms around Aster’s waist. “But seriously,” she says, craning her neck to maintain eye contact, “I’m really excited for you. I know you’re not gonna be gone _that_ long, but it still _feels_ like a big deal, you know? It’s exciting.”

“I’m excited!” Aster nods. “Cepheus said they made a whole bunch of preparations to host us and that they’ve been talking about it nonstop at the temple for months, which is weird because it’s just _us_. I don’t know. It’s not like we’re any different than initiates from Vali, right? I know they’re going to look at _me_ differently, but still. It’s a lot of build-up. But it’s exciting! Just getting to share knowledge and help people out there… I think it’s gonna be really really cool.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it in a couple of weeks. Or, well… the parts you can tell me.”

“Which is most of it!”

“Exactly! You’re going to have a great time. Just… be careful, okay? I know you said Vali is supposed to be rougher than the capital and it’s all new and you won’t know your way around as well and all, so just… you know. Stay safe, okay, Aster?” 

“I’ll be fine,” Aster assures Terassis. She rests her hands directly atop Terassis’ where they sit around the small of her back, and gives them a reassuring squeeze. “But you stay safe and all too, okay? Don’t, I dunno. Sneak off to the night market in a shitty disguise and get robbed or something? Or… die in a horrible accident? I don’t know. Just stay safe.”

“I will. I promise,” says Terassis. She tightens the hug around Aster’s waist and pecks her softly on the lips. “Besides, I’ll be too busy having to memorize _more_ geography and _more_ spell components to get up to much.”

“Sounds like a nightmare,” Aster grins. 

“Only because you won’t be here to complain to,” Terassis says. “Don’t worry. I’ll make a list of all the worst parts and I’ll read it to you in _excruciating_ detail when you get back.”

“You’d better.” Aster lowers herself from the kitchen countertop and slides the massive plate under the palms of her hands. She glances toward the sizzling sound at her right, where Pavo dutifully stirs the broth for tonight’s dinner, but no obvious place to cook the dumplings jumps out amidst the kitchen clutter. 

“Here, I’ve got it,” Terassis smiles, reaching over and relieving Aster of the platter’s weight. She nods her head to the side and gestures toward an over-filled shelf by the windowsill, where the tiniest corner of a bamboo basket pokes out from behind a heap of graters and spatulas. 

Terassis takes a single step toward the windowsill before a loud crash shakes the room.

The kitchen door smacks against the back wall, nearly flying off its hinges as four fully outfitted guards burst into the small chamber. Both girls instinctively straighten their spines, holding perfectly still save for but an instant of shared glances. Terassis sweeps her gaze over the guards, her lips pressed together in a thin line. She holds still, ready to be scolded for wandering off or wasting kitchen time or ingredients. As the pair stares the guards down, however, no reprimand comes.

Something is clearly wrong when their shoulders heave up and down with raspy breaths. Something is clearly wrong when the guard on the leftmost side of the bunch is near-drenched in forehead sweat. Something is clearly wrong when they exchange panicked glances, as though each of them awaits a command of some sort from the other. 

After several seconds of tense silence, one guard, a pale man standing the farthest from the door, clears his throat. “Your Majesty. Please, we need to speak with you in private.”

_Majesty?_

It hits everyone in the room before it hits Terassis. Pavo has turned to face the guards, a sort of quiet sadness settling on his face as the words sink in. Aster just stares at her girlfriend, the calm on her face replaced in an instant with panic. The other guards’ eyes dart from one another to Terassis.

For a moment, Terassis stands frozen in place, still and waiting as though she has just jumped into cold water and is stuck in the split second before the shock hits. The guard’s words reach only the surface of her thoughts. It’s the wrong title; she _knows_ it’s the wrong title, and yet for just one second, all that she can absorb is that some inexperienced servant must have misspoken. It’s _wrong,_ much as someone might be wrong when they say that the sky is red, and it registers for just a split second as nothing more than wrong.

In that split second, Terassis can only think to look to Pavo. The ever-jovial chef stares back at Terassis with a sadness she can scarcely recognize.

The cold water’s shock hits. 

The guard opens his mouth, explanations and condolences no doubt spilling out, but Terassis only hears the glass platter in her hands crash to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! This was a shorter chapter than usual, and I can't say I'm as satisfied with it as I am with some of my other work. But it's been, and continues to be, a busy couple of months, and so I need to work out some of that rustiness as it pertains to the fic. If you aren't as satisfied with this chapter as with others, I hope you can simply consider it a warmup to the chapters that are to come.


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